Crazy
by Elizabeth Springfield
Summary: The next words I speak are just as familiar to me as 2701. "I am not crazy." I hiss, baring my teeth like an animal backed into a corner. The emotions bottled up inside of me spilled out. "If I am, it's because of the Hell I've gone through in here." (Contains OC)
1. Escaping Marigold Asylum

_**I'm more or less curious about how the readers take this. Read and Review with your honest to god opinion(s)!**  
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_52,560 hours. 3,152,640 minutes. I want to get out I want to get out I want to—_

To my left, footsteps thunder past The Door. The Door…What was The Door? That was the problem. That was why I couldn't get out. The Door. A mysterious alchemical compound made up of parts I can't even begin to guess. Not that it mattered.

Even if I did know, they always find a way to make it harder. That's what they did before, at least. I got out of three different kinds of cells before they made this one. This one. I can't freeze it, or boil it. It never warps. It keeps me in. At least, that what I found out before. Alchemy is impossible without hands.

_I'm suffocating, I'm suffocating, I'm…_

Alarms are going off now, putting off wailing ululations that hurt my ears. I hear an explosion close to my cell and find my eyes drawn away from the corner I'm in. "Hold on, Al! I'll help you!"

"Brother!" A different voice chimes.

Before I understand what my body is doing, I'm on my feet and running to the door. "Hel-puh," my throat is raw from screaming. I didn't realize until now that I am afraid, that the alarms are hurting my ears after years of a fearful quiet.

"Brother," the treble voice repeats. "I think I hear someone."

"No time, Al! The place is falling apart!"

"Brother!" now the voice is reprimanding, scolding of the deeper voice. "We can't just leave them!"

"It could be a guard." The voice points out, but the footsteps draw close once more. "Where did you hear it?"

"This way," the building gives a shuddering shake and stone crashes around my metallic cell.

"Hel-puh, hel-puh, hel…p. _Help_!" I throw myself against The Door. Freedom is close. I taste it on my lips. Outside…The idea is so beautiful it hurts. Grass, trees, birds, air…_air_. My lungs suck in greedily at the idea of fresh air. All they receive is the stale, bitter air that I've lived with for six years.

The Door quivers this time, and I see the blue flash of alchemy. "_Damn it._ Hold on, lady! We'll get you out of here!"

I continue my pleading chant and back up. _Helpless._ The Door flashes again, melting into various gases and liquids. "Hah!" A short silhouette dances at the open door. "I_ knew _it had helium in it!"

"Brother," a taller, bulkier shadow shook its head.

"Let's go, Al!"

I stumble forward, barely avoiding the liquefied metal. Air is rushing into my cell now, carrying the scent of sulfur and burning. "Hel-puh," I repeat, unable to stop the chant as I take my first step out of my cell.

The dust clears and I see the shorter silhouette more clearly now, a blond with a red jacket and golden eyes. A blond. I squint my eyes at him and lean forward. "Great," he scowls. "We saved a crazy."

The large silhouette turns out to be a suit of armor. "Ed," he accuses. He reminds me of a mother hen trying to keep everyone safe.

A deep, echoing _crack_ resounds through the hall and I'm scooped into the one named Al's arms. There is a flash of blue and Edward breaks through the wall and into the night. The sweet air intoxicates me and I gasp for it as quickly as my lungs allow. The acrid smoke still rises up behind us, but now I can smell water and grass and coolness.

"Fullmetal!" A new voice cries out. "What the hell is happening here?"

Edward stumbles forward before regaining his balance. "We were following Scar."

"And he happened to waltz into a maximum security asylum?" A military clad officer glares down at us, running a disgruntled hand through his raven hair. His black eyes examine me and his scowl deepens. "You let one of them out."

Alphonse lets me stand my own ground and sets me down. "We couldn't leave her to die! The place is falling apart!"

I examine his military pins. From the looks of it, he's a colonel. "She's so dangerous that they cut her arms off."

The reminder of my lack of limbs is the jolt I need to bring the spark of fear back to me. Amestrian soldiers are the ones who put me here. I kick Al in the chest and fall the ground with a thud. The wind is driven out of my lungs at impact, but I regain my footing. I scan the _Marigold Correctional Center for the Mentally Insane_'s ground carefully. "I left her, I left her behind! _She's going to hate me_."

The colonel draws his gun. "Move and you're dead." His eyes are cool, serious.

I stare down the barrel, my eyes flickering between him and his gun. The black, empty endlessness of the barrel is the same as the black of his eyes. Hard. Unforgiving. I step closer and press my forehead to it. It's cold against my skin, but I look at the soldier. "Please," I whisper. I close my eyes. "Don't make me go back."

The gun is holstered and the soldier speaks. "What's your name?" He inquires.

"2701." I answer automatically. It had come to be as familiar to me as my heartbeat. Warden would strike up conversation with me occasionally back in the days I'd respond and search for how to get out. My real name was a fragment of the past; just as broken as everything else.

The pity on his face is sickening, and Ed asks, "Do you have a real name?"

_Anabelle Anabelle Anabelle Ana—_

I look at the boys. Ed has the golden-eyed complexion of someone from Xerxes. The thought reminds me of home, and of the days I spent with my father studying alchemy. "Resembool," I mutter. My brain is a storm of thoughts at the image of my home. _T__rees, grass, birds, crops, friends, family, mom, dad, Ed, Al__—_

The night goes strangely quiet and my gaze is drawn once again to Ed. "Little brothers," my heart says, pounding in my throat.

Ed's pupils contract and he scrutinizes me more carefully now. The years changed me just as much as they had changed him. The rags that covered my body couldn't help him recognize me.

The soldier blinks in confusion. "There are more of you?"

Alphonse speaks the word I can't say. "Anabelle?"

A blinding light is turned on me as another soldier approach. "Colonel Mustang, the crazies are escaping. The civilians are giving us Hel—." The voice cuts short and I know that she's watching me curiously.

The next words I speak are just as familiar to me as 2701. "_I am not crazy_." I hiss, baring my teeth like an animal backed into a corner. The emotions bottled up inside of me spilled out. "If I am, it's because of the Hell I've gone through in here." I glance up at the clouds curiously. The stars don't show, but the idea of rain seduces me.

"I will never make a Philosopher's stone again." I spit on the ground. "Even the Truth isn't worth so many innocent lives."

Edward pales even further and Mustang throws his black jacket over my jumpsuit and buttons the top button. "I have a feeling this is going to be a long story with a lot of questions."

I shift uncomfortably under this unfamiliar layer of clothing and glance up at him. "Fullmetal, Alphonse, meet me at my office tomorrow morning." He puts his arm over my shoulders tenderly, and I know it's because he isn't sure of how wounded I am. We're walking to a black car.

Edward catches up with us and sends a sharp look to Mustang. "What the hell? You can't just steal her away after—."

"If she's really your sister, you'll be the first place they look when they're looking for the patients." He snaps haughtily. "They won't expect a colonel to keep one stashed away."

Edward challenges him, glaring at the colonel. "But they told us she was dead. Why would they come to us?"

"Because you're the only family I have," I whisper. "They'll look to you before they search Resembool. No one escapes The Warden. Whenever I got out she found me. No matter where I hid, what I did differently."

This comment concerns Mustang. "What do you mean?"

"When I escaped the first time, I killed her." I gauge their reactions. Horror, surprise, sadness. "Or at least I thought I did. She found me at the train station and dragged me back. I escaped a second time without being noticed. She caught me. The third time, I made it to Resembool…As they say; three times a charm. She put me to use after that." I stop myself there.

"You saw the Truth," Edward announces tentatively.

There's a crack of thunder and I feel a wet droplet of rain on my face. My excitement soars and I turn skyward. "It's raining," I breathe, closing my eyes and accepting the icy water. Each drop bounces off my skin, but it's not long before I'm soaked to the bone. I can't see the others, but I hope they're taking as much joy in the rain as I am.

I imagine the rain is washing away my sins. "I'm sorry."

Alphonse shakes his head. "You couldn't help it, sister."

"I'm sorry," I repeat. "That I can't hug my baby brothers after all this time."

Mustang wraps his arm over my shoulder tenderly, and I tense under the physical contact. He leads me through the muddy, slippery grass to a car, and I leave my brothers behind again.


	2. Needs

_**I real****ly do**** appreciate reviews, guys. I promise I'm not lying.**_

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_Mustang wraps his arm over my shoulder tenderly, and I tense under the physical contact. He leads me through the muddy, slippery grass to a car, and I leave my brothers behind again._

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The colonel drags his chair around the table to sit beside me. "You're not much bigger than Fullmetal, huh." He wields a bowl full of what appears to be noodles and some sort of seasoning. He spins the noodles around a fork and offers it to me. "How much did they feed you back there?"

He doesn't wait for my answer and practically forces the spaghetti into my mouth.

Truth be told, I was lucky to get a stale, molding loaf of bread a week. You really learn how to ration yourself when it's your life on the line.

The flavor explodes on my tongue and it's all I can do not to stick my face in the bowl as he resets the fork with the carbohydrates.

I'm still chewing when he offers the next forkful to me. "So, your name is Anabelle."

I nod and take another mouthful of spaghetti. We continue like this until the bowl is empty, simple yes-no questions and spaghetti. Through it, he learns the basics. I'm Anabelle Elric. Twenty years old. I know alchemy. I'm a dog person. I have an immense dislike of the Amestrian military. I don't trust him. I like the color green. I like reading. I like walking. I know that automail is a possibility.

He takes a napkin and gently wipes my face before sitting back. "How did you get yourself into that asylum, anyways?" He rests his head on his hands and I can see the dark lines under his eyes. He's just as exhausted as I am. "You don't _seem _crazy."

"I pissed off a few people that I shouldn't have." I answer truthfully. _Death doesn't give you time to wallow in self-pity and time._

He gives a weary chuckle and rubs his eyes. "Well, I'd have to be an idiot to deny the fact that you're related to Fullmetal." He stands and stretches, rolling his shoulders with several pops. "You look tired."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," I challenge simply. The idea of sleep doesn't appeal to me anymore than staying awake does. For now, I need to find a mechanic to manufacture a decent pair of automail arms. When I was a kid, Pinako Rockbell was the best mechanic I knew. I don't know how she is anymore, though. Urey and Sara were killed in Ishval, and grief does terrible things to the mind.

He gives me a pointed look. "Well, I can't argue with that. Do you want to change clothes?" He's referring to the rags I wear. "A bath? Shower? How did you stay so well kept without arms? Your hair is up. I know you didn't do that."

I rest my forehead on the table. "Once a week, they need to clean out the cells. There is an alarm in each sector that releases the locks to our doors and the wardens herd us into the shower. A girl from my sector pitied me and would take care of my needs. Patient 312. She knows what it's like to be helpless." I grit my teeth at the word. _Helpless helpless helpless help—. "_Even crazies have a sense of right and wrong. She saw someone who needed help so she pulled up her big girl panties and helped." I sigh wistfully at the thought of wearing undergarments again. "You don't happen to have a female officer you trust, do you?" I ask plaintively. I'd much rather have a female stranger helping me change than a male one. Military scum or not, I do need the help.

"I was hoping not to bring her into this…but yes. I'd trust Lieutenant Hawkeye with my life." He states.

"I'd be more comfortable with the assistance of another woman," I apologize. "There are needs that she'll understand better than you will."

He full heartedly agrees. "I'll give her a call." He stands and grabs some loose change from the center of the table. "Will you be okay by yourself for a few minutes?" I nod and he returns the action. "Be right back." He disappears into outside.

I take some time to examine his apartment. It's clean enough with only some loose clothing strewn on the ground. Certainly a bachelor's pad. A deep yawn makes me realize that I'm plenty tired enough to sleep. Carefully standing and pushing back the kitchen chair, I make my way to the couch. It's soft compared to the floor I lived on for six years, but hey, anything is soft compared to concrete.

It's not long before my mind is numb and my head lolls. _I'll just get some sleep now, and then…_

The doorknob rattles, waking me from my half-consciousness. "Pssst," a voice hisses at the door, muffled. "2701. _2701_."

I leap up from the couch and crouch defensively in a shadow. "312? Is that you?"

"Mmm," she hums in agreement. "Can you come unlock the door? I've brought presents."

I creep towards the door and face the lock. I don't remember hearing Mustang lock it, but it looks like he did. I scowl at the mechanism and kick my leg up to open it. It takes me a few seconds of toe-wiggling and cussing, but the lock clicks open nonetheless.

312 enters, carrying with her two grocery bags of supplies. "I followed you here. It's raining."

I show her in and nod. She's already changed out of her own rags and into a colorful dress. It hangs loose over her frail twig of a body with no curves or fat to cling to, but the deep blue and white colors compliment her fire-colored hair and deep-forest eyes.

She sets down at the table and empties the bags. "I took some clothing." She offers it up for my inspection.

"Took?" I quirk an eyebrow critically.

A wide grin spreads across her face. "If I can go unnoticed by The Warden, I can certainly go unnoticed by a civilian." A handful of unmentionables and a dress for me. I don't know what inspired her to be so girly and thoughtless about the attire. Even she knows that it's harder to move in a skirt than in pants. "Come now, there must be a bath for you around here."

I shake my head. "The man who brought me here is soldier. Colonel State Alchemist."

312 is less than pleased with my answer. "Does he trust you?"

I shake my head. "Doubt it. He stepped out to make a call. He'll be back soon."

"Then pray tell we need to hurry. Make you presentable. Men want to protect feminine girls that look like they need help."

I scoff. "State Alchemists aren't men. They're animals."

"Pray tell, isn't your brother the Fullmetal Alchemist?" She flutters her ginger eyelashes at me innocently.

I blink. "You really can hide in the shadows," I evaluate her once more. She's pale and sticks out like a sore thumb. How could I not notice her standing close enough to eavesdrop?

She smiles proudly as she lifts my raggedy dress over my head and sets to work. "The Warden really beat the shit out of you," she comments, examining my scars in the significantly brighter light of the kitchen. "Vicious bitch." From behind me, she straps a brazier around my shoulders and peeks around at my face. "How is that?"

"Fine," I tell her, inwardly laughing. I never hear her cuss like she is. Perhaps I've influenced her?

She beams and offers underwear for me to step into. I obey and she snaps the elastic-feeling waistband on my hips. "Clothing," she muses, unzipping the back of the dress. The door clicks open and a cloud passes 312's face. "I'm not done yet," she whines.

I turn and face him. His gun is once again drawn and he glares at 312 with the same suspicion he gave me when we met. "Who are you?"

312 tilts her head and examines him. "Neh, 2701. He's pretty cute for a state alchemist. Are you sure?"

I watch him carefully. "Is this a friend of yours from Marigold?" he demands.

"The best friend!" 312 roars fiercely, glaring back at him. I can tell she's mocking him. "You can call me Emma. I followed your car here."

I never actually learned 312's name. She was always 312, just as I was 2701. In Marigold, the wardens got suspicious when you got too close with the other patients. Suppose things are different now that we're out...

Mustang lowers his gun and eyes me wearily. "What's going on in here?"

"I'm making 2701 decent," Emma _hmphs_.

"Anabelle?" He glances me over and doesn't seem to mind the extra help. "Jesus, what happened to you?"

I look down at myself to see what he must see. Light scars running through my stomach, skin mottled in ugly bruises, scars of burns and stab wounds and tears and hatred. Looking back up, I repeat my previous explanation. "I pissed off the wrong people."

He holsters his gun and is unashamed of addressing my mostly bared body. "You're half-starved. Both of you." His black eyes show concern, worry. "Emma, can I fix you something to eat?"

She shakes her head. "The moon's secrets have filled my appetite."

I cast him a warning look, but he accepts her answer. Emma isn't the raving, murderous,lunatic kind of crazy. She just sees things that others do not, sees and hears beautiful things and wants to share them with others.

Continuing her previous work, Emma slides the dress over my head and presents me to Mustang. "Tada!"

I feel like I'm playing dress up in my mother's closet again, the clothes hanging loose over me like a bag. "With 31…" I stop and correct myself. "Emma. With Emma, I can slip out of Central. I'll get automail for myself and return as soon as possible."

"What will your brothers think?" He challenges, and it's a reasonable question. They finally saw me after 6 years, and now I'm disappearing again. It's unreasonable of me.

"I'm no help to anyone if I can't even feed myself," I argue.

Emma dances around me, taking away his chance to respond. "The shadows suggest we go to Rush Valley."

"Ed's mechanic is pretty good. Why don't we just have him call her in?" Mustang presents this information as he sits down. "Winry Rockbell, I believe. Do you know her?"

I smile vaguely. "Sara and Urey's daughter. Yeah. Ed and Al used to fight over which one of them was going to marry her before Al crushed Ed by proposing to me. Ed was crushed by Al's victory."

Mustang snickers, and then laughs. "Sorry, sorry," he tries to wave it away. "You surprised me."

Emma pokes her face into his, so close their noses touch. "You need to laugh more often, Colonel State Alchemist. It will help you have sex."

I give a surprised laugh and try to cover it with a cough. Emma spins on me expectantly. "Right. We'll be leaving."

I pause and recall what he's said. "My brother has a mechanic?" My eyes narrow until I'm practically squinting at him. "Why?"

Mustang's expression is somber. "Edward and Alphonse attempted human transmutation. He lost his leg. Lost his arm binding Al to that suit of armor."

The blood drains from my face and lean up against Emma. "My baby brothers..."

Emma rubs my back in consolation and kisses my temple. "You'll be alright, Any-banany. We'll fix you right up, right up, fix you. You'll see. You'll be all better in no time, and you can fix up those sweet babies too. You'll see. You'll see."

Mustang watches us respectfully, no longer arguing with me. He must know that I'm right, that I can't be watched after every day. "I'll explain the situation to them. They waited six years. They can spare a few weeks."

I take a shuddering breath, still shocked by this discovery. To know that the perfect, round baby-faced children I'd left had seen something as vile and painful as the Truth hurts me. I wish I could go back in time and fix this. I wish that they could be the little babies I remembered, sweet and young and so full of blissful innocence. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. See you soon, Colonel."


End file.
